


Evenings and Underwhelming Dinner Dates

by jupiterious



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Incest, M/M, Stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterious/pseuds/jupiterious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know you're testing me," Dave says, after a further twenty minutes, and the petulant edge to his voice leaves the "you dick" unspoken but understood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evenings and Underwhelming Dinner Dates

"Hey. Dinner's ready. Couple people left some messages on the machine for you."

The sight that greets Dirk when he enters the apartment is familiar, and all the more welcoming for it: Dave leaning by the door, hands shoved into his pockets, shades off and gaze lowered. The collar around his neck could barely even be considered a collar -- it's a black rubber toric joint, left over from a previously-cannibalized pressure washer -- but it fills him with warm possessiveness and the constant visual confirmation that yeah, Dave wants this as much as he does, it's still good. He wants Dirk to order him around, make him obey, take control even when he's being a sarcastic, back-biting little shit. Especially when he's being a sarcastic, back-biting little shit. Dirk closes the door behind him and reaches out to hold Dave's jaw, tilting his head up until he meets Dirk's eyes.

"Help me out of this first," Dirk says, gesturing to his jacket. 

"Must be a pain in the ass, not being able to take clothes off by yourself," Dave smirks. That earns him a raised eyebrow. He steps closer than strictly necessary when he pushes the jacket down over Dirk's arms, like he thinks he's being subtle about getting all up in his space. Like he isn't desperate, like it isn't thoroughly reciprocated. He hangs the jacket over the back of the sofa before returning to Dirk's side, and Dirk's hand immediately comes to rest around the back of Dave's neck, complete with affectionate squeeze. Dave's eyes flutter for a moment, blink and you'd miss it, and he leans into the touch. Dirk kisses him.

"Cute," Dirk replies dryly. Dave grins in response. 

Neither of them are great cooks. Usually, it's a question of who's closest to the microwave at the time. But while Dirk has an ever-expanding, if rarely-used, spreadsheet of compatible flavors ranging from plastic Kraft cheese to shit way too expensive to ever get his hands on, Dave is a one-recipe pony who occasionally becomes consumed by the idea that if he just experiments hard enough, maple syrup and broccoli will taste good together. Tonight it's instant mac and cheese, and Dirk is thankful for it. It's not exciting, but it's fuel, and the printout of a photo of parsley perched on top for added class seals the deal.

Dave sits close enough that Dirk can hook his ankle around Dave's under the table. They fill each other in on the trivialities of their respective days and it's comfortably domestic, stable, a routine. Keeping his eyes averted from Dave's mouth is a struggle Dirk gives up on halfway through washing up, but it doesn't feel anything less than strangely freeing. (Oh, right. You don't have to pretend here, Dirk. Remember? He wants you back.) Dirk's stomach flutters and he takes hold of Dave's wrist, pulls him close and kisses him. Hesitantly at first, in case it earns him nothing but a reprimand, Dave leans in for another. And then another.

More often than not they'd split up and do their own thing, but while Dirk checks his email Dave kneels at his side, head resting on his thigh. When he isn't typing Dirk pets him, and each time his fingers return to Dave's hair there's a barely-audible sigh of something close to relief. Long after his inbox has been emptied Dirk's still going, pausing every minute or so to type, dragging it out just to see what Dave will do. Dirk admires his patience; forty minutes and Dave's only just begun to fidget, and then only enough to ease some life back into his limbs. He glances fondly down at the top of Dave's head before starting up Pesterchum. The quick-fire responses required mean that more often than not, Dirk's hands are on the keyboard: a calculated escalation. 

"I know you're testing me," Dave says, after a further twenty minutes, and the petulant edge to his voice leaves the "you dick" unspoken but understood. 

Dirk keeps his eyes on the screen and his hands on the keys. "Why would I do that?" 

The only reason Dave's eyeroll isn't audible is because it's reached the level of supersonic. Dirk doesn't even have to look at him. He knows Dave. "Why wouldn't you? It's what you do," Dave replies, and yeah. Dave knows Dirk too. "All going through me with a red pen 'cause this is my final exam and if I don't pass this one I'm gonna fail out of college and spend the rest of my life waiting tables in a shitty diner, getting hit on by truckers. But it's not going to be like that, bro, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. Leave your door open because here's me walking in out of the rain like a lost dog with mascara running down my cheeks like, 'Oh, Professor, don't do this to me, there has to be another way. How about a little something for extra credit?' and then after the blowjob you're like, 'Yeah that was great I guess but if you can't sit still for an hour and a fucking half how are you ever gonna make it in this world? I'm just lookin' out for you, kid. I know you can do better. Sorry, but you're gonna have to repeat the semester.'" 

Dirk meets his indignant glare with an amused smirk, though he's not quite sure how he feels about the biting commentary. Or the accuracy. Sometimes feeling exposed is good for him, and sometimes it's just an intensely uncomfortable reminder of how transparent he really is. Dave sighs, shakes his head, reaches up to entwine his fingers with Dirk's. The result is a few junk characters on the screen and an internal thawing. One of these days, Dirk's going to get over the whole thing where he alternates pushing to improve with pushing just to push, just to see how much Dave will take before he calls the whole thing off, but that day isn't today. It's not even this month. 

"Yeah," he says, instead of an outright apology, which is what Dave really deserves. He squeezes Dave's fingers before gently disentangling them and tugs at the collar of Dave's shirt. Dave gets to his feet stiffly and sits on Dirk's lap. He kisses the shell of Dave's ear.

"Still here." Dave's voice is muffled against Dirk's neck. 

"I know."


End file.
